


Nothing Changes

by krysnel_nicavis



Series: the Squib Universe [4]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam finds something on his doorstep one morning that makes his resentment of his biological family flare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Approximately 6 years after “Blood is Relative”.

I’m sure the emotions my eyes are flaring as vividly as my natural hair colour as I read the letter in my hands, written on thick parchment in bold blue ink – most likely written with one of those blasted quills.  They’ve likely taken on a greyer colour than their usual blue as they tend to do when my emotions are running high.

When I opened my door this morning, on my way to the studio to begin work on my third album, I almost tripped over the bundle that was lying on my front stoop.  Thankfully I caught myself in time.  After the initial shock wore off I carefully picked up the bundle and turned back into the house.  Securely wrapped in the plush scarlet red and gold trimmed blanket was a tiny figure with a thick tuft of jet black hair.

Upon closer inspection of the infant, which looked to be days old, I noticed a few tiny freckles on the baby’s cheeks.  I couldn’t help the small smile as the child yawned and shifted into a comfortable position in my arms.  Its eyes opened and I could already see traces of green around the blue colour that many babies are born with.  There was no mistaking it, the child was a Potter.  And judging by its dark hair it had managed to escape the “Weasley Curse”, like the younger of its two older brothers.

I noticed a letter sticking out of the blanket and took the child to my bedroom where I laid it down in the center of my king size bed, surrounding it in pillows so, should it move, it wouldn’t fall off… not that I really thought it would at that age.  I removed the letter, making sure the infant was still comfortably wrapped in the blanket, and sat on the bed looking at the large parchment envelope.  It was thick so the letter was either very long or there was more than just a note inside.  Written in bold blue ink on the front of the envelope was my name and the wax seal on the back bore a small coat-of-arms with the letter ‘P’ on it’s center.

I broke the scarlet red wax seal and removed the contents, reading the top most sheet first.  The contents in the letter both did and did not surprise me.  My heart went out to the newborn baby boy nestled between my pillows – according to the letter he was merely hours old.  At the same time the resentment I felt whenever I thought of my biological family flared into anger.

 _‘How could they do this?’_ filters through my thoughts at the same time as ‘ _some things never change’._   Two short years before I was informed of my true heritage they’d finished fighting the second war against a terrorist who tried to eliminate anyone who either wasn’t of magical origin or had no magic at all.  Anyone who was different.  I’d almost dared to hope this would have changed their outlook.  This was just as bad as what that terrorist did.

The newborn infant now in my care had, like I myself, been abandoned by his parents because he had no magic.  Because he was a squib.  Because he was different.

I crush the letter in my fist.  Both my hands are shaking in fury.  I want to throw something and scream.  Part of it didn’t make any sense.  While I can well believe that my sister would have no problem dropping a squib child of hers on someone else, it’s hard to imagine her husband doing the same.  Even though the letter clearly states that neither parent is willing to care for the child.

I toss the crumpled parchment aside and turn to the remaining documents.  They’re the magical adoption papers.  Looking closer I realise that they’re more than adoption papers, they’re _bloodline/heritage_ adoption papers.  The kind that are typically used when a child is adopted into a bloodline, usually as an heir.  After filling out the papers I’ll need to place a drop of my own blood on the designated square at the bottom of all the required pages next to my signature and it will form a magically and legally binding connection between me and the child.  The wizarding world does everything magically and after completing these forms all magical test results will confirm that this child is my son.  Not even his biological parents will be able to reverse it.  Muggle DNA tests will still show that he is actually my nephew but those results have no bearing in the wizarding world.  Dad filled out the same forms for me, and Mom filled out similar ones as the secondary parent.

I look over the forms and gaze down at the infant’s sleeping face as I think about what to do. _‘Can I do this?’_   I’m not sure if I’m the best person to raise a child.  What do I know about being a father?  I’m a musician who travels a lot.  When ever I promote an album or go on tour I’ll either have to take the boy with me or leave him at home with someone else.  Is this lifestyle a fair one for him to grow up in?  I reach out and lightly trace a fingertip down his nose as another, more important, question enters my mind.

_Can I let him go?_

-o0o-

“Hey Adam,” Tommy grins at me as I walk into the studio.  I’m an hour and a half late. “So what’s the big surprise you phoned to warn us about?”

I grin and turn to my PA, who entered behind me.  I take the carrier from her and she smiles before excusing herself, leaving a bag on the floor before exiting. “Well, I know this is sudden,” I begin. “But, how would you like to meet my son?” The stunned expressions on all my band mates faces widens my grin.

“Your _son_?” Monte disbelievingly repeats.

I place the carrier securely on a chair before removing the purple blanket that covered the baby from view.  They all lean forward as I carefully unbuckle my son and pick him up, cradling him in the crook of my arm. “Sorry I’m so late, I had to pick up a few things for him on my way.”  After filling out the required forms, they’d magically sealed themselves and disappeared in a light golden flash.  A few seconds and another flash later, all the required muggle documents – including birth certificate, approved adoption papers, and assorted medical documents – were sitting in a folder on my lap.

“Where did he come from?” asks Tommy.

“A relative of mine,” I explain. “She couldn’t take care of him and didn’t want just anybody to raise him so she contacted me a while ago. I didn’t want to say anything before in case she changed her mind.” This part was a lie but I needed a cover story.  There was no way I could just tell people that he is a non-magical child of a real witch and wizard and that I woke up this morning with him on my doorstep.  Since the story hasn’t hit the media yet I can only assume whoever left the baby had used magic to keep the paparazzi away from my house.  I can only hope the story is convincing enough but I figure, why not?  It was sort of a similar type of story to what happened when Sandra Bullock announced she’d adopted her first kid.

“What’s his name?” Cam asks pulling back the hood that slightly obscures the baby’s head to get a better look.

“Mitchel Harrison Lambert,” I reply, smiling down at my new son.

\- 30 -

**Author's Note:**

> I just re-read the epilogue of HP7, and I don’t like they way they all became. They were fighting, not only for the wizarding world, but for the muggle world as well and yet they still display the same discriminating points of view as the previous generation. The war was fought for equality and they don’t even try to attain it. I mean Ron talks about using a confundus charm on a muggle so flippantly and Harry thinks it’s funny. Hermione is no better when she isn’t really that mad about Ron saying things about Slytherins and instructs his daughter not to befriend Draco’s son. Not to mention some of their kids are brats – especially James… that might be a cursed name… Sorry, I went off on a tangent that had little to do with this fic.
> 
> But having re-read the epilogue, I really believe that Harry wouldn’t approve of giving up one of his children, even if they were a squib. He’s so concerned about and connected to his younger son (it’s hard to say about his relationship with his older son).
> 
> Hope you like the fic! Did you like it? I’m thinking about writing more in this storyline, what do you think?


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